The end of days
by ro-lal
Summary: The war is not over. The kaiju army is regrouping, the PPDC is dying, and both sides think they've found the way to win in the same person.
1. Chapter 1

"You were convulsing!" Hannibal bellows, baring his teeth. His hand flutters towards his pocket but he halts the movement halfway; if he could stand the last three years without slitting Geizsler open from balls to tits, he can survive one more day. "Twitching like a goddamn fish out of water and you expect me to believe that you're fine!"

"Yes?" He can tell by the wince that Newt hadn't meant it to sound so meek, but it's out now and he visibly steels himself, fists curling and eyes flashing behind cracked lenses. "It's not any of your business anyways, I mean -"

"Not any of my business?" Hannibal demands. He pauses, a moment of weakness in which he despairs over this kid's lack of sense, before continuing in a an almost neutral tone that ends up coming out coldly venomous: a direct expression of how he feels. "My people have been watching you, punk, and what they're telling me ain't good. Eight days, they said, and you hardly left that table long enough to take a piss and grab more coffee. When was the last time you slept, huh? How can I trust you not to fuck up my last reserves of kaiju liver when this is the shit you're pulling?"

"I've been doing fine!" Newt retorts, bristling with indignant fury. "I've played by your rules -"

"Except when you haven't."

"- only taking what you've been giving, and I helped. I swear I helped, am still helping, I just, it's, it's," he stammers, running dirty fingers through his messy hair. Probably never seen a brush in his life, Hannibal thinks, so maybe that'll do it good. But it doesn't, and the unwashed mess stands up in ragged clumps after the impromptu combing. With this, the rumpled clothing, and the dark bags under his eyes, it's safe to say this isn't just a creative kick. "I'm a genius?" Newt tries. His fingers are twitching minutely.

"You're a moron," Hannibal says flatly, anger leeching out of him as he puts the pieces together. How to word this without pissing him off more? "Look, kid. I know nightmares when I see them, you could've just said something. To me, or my second-in-command, whoever it is this week, I dunno, they kill each other off all the time and the new one hasn't reported to me yet."

"Said something!" Newt repeats shrilly, and oh. Wrong thing to say. "To one of you? You just, just proved my point for me! This place is gang territory, a black market hotspot filled with tough-guy types like you and, what? I'm supposed to walk up to you and say, 'hey, Chau, so I just had a dream about getting torn to pieces by kaiju on an alien bug's command, can I take you aside from your illegal dealings and talk about it?' Are you trying to tell me that's how it works?"

He reminds himself again that he doesn't need his knife. "Alien bug?" he prompts. "The hell're you talking about?"

Newt squints and gives a strangled scream. Hannibal waits until he's done, forcibly reminding himself that a blade to the throat doesn't shut the kid up anymore.

"Are you kidding me?" Newt asks finally, tossing aside his notebook and pen; the two collide with a set of scalpels delicately laid out on a tray and the whole thing tumbles to the floor. Neither of them move, but Newt's eyes are about to pop out of his head.

"I'm offering my time," Hannibal points out reasonably, teeth gritted in a display of his endless irritation, "of which I don't have much, so talk."

Clearly Newt wasn't expecting this. Hannibal himself wasn't expecting it, either, but he rolls with it and takes a seat in the plush chair opposite Newt's wooden one. After a moment of awkward silence, he gives the order to sit and Newt obeys immediately.

"I uh, are you sure?" the younger man asks cautiously. He's trying not to fidget, but the nervous tension borne of caffeinated exhaustion gives life to tapping heels all the same. Normally Hannibal gets satisfaction from making others squirm, but it was never the same with his little pet scientist.

"I could just kick you out and make it easier on myself," Chau says lightly.

"Right," Newt agrees, "and that would suck. For both of us, cuz y'know, you've got the kaiju parts and I've got the kaiju smarts so -"

"Nightmares," Hannibal reminds him, and he can see Newt latch onto the hint of annoyance.

"Yeah. Uh." Newt swallows, throat clicking audibly. "Are we really doing this? Yes?" he adds at Hannibal's scowl. "Yes okay, we're doing this, that's cool."

"The point."

"Well it's not that big a deal?" he says, awkwardly. His hand goes up to the cuff of his rolled-up sleeves: a nervous habit, maybe, considering the various kaiju-reminiscient colors staining the fabric there. Hannibal raises an eyebrow and he coughs. "It was uh, the kaiju. I got a look at how they're made," he explains, "when I drifted with Otachi's baby. Which, did she ever get a name?"

"Yeah," Hannibal says, "Eguana."

"That's stupid," Newt replies automatically. "They couldn't have picked something cuter? Plus, you know, iguanas don't have wings so okay, uh, the point.

"Kaiju aren't really born, like Otachi's baby. They're built, constructed with parts of other dead kaiju. The masters, the guys in charge, they sort of pit them against each other and whichever one comes out on top gets locked in a cage until they want to send it through a Breach. The other guy, uh, if it's still in big enough pieces gets, recycled? So the masters gather up the chunks and sew them on to new kaiju.

"It's horrific, seriously, and I keep seeing it, except it's people I know being built out of other people and," he swallows, stares at the floor. "Humans weren't made to do that, y'know? Normally it'd be kind of a cool concept, all frankenstein, but seeing it is different. Being a part of it's worse, and I'm the one who's stitching these monsters back together, and the worst part?" He giggles, on the edge of hysteria. "The worst part is I don't, I don't even care about these guys! I get irritated, when one dies, because it wasn't strong enough, and then I collect it and take out my frustration on the new one I'm putting together and it's screaming but I - and I'm getting blood everywhere but it doesn't matter and it's your face, or Mako's, and I realize I've got Hermann's arm in my hands, still holding his cane and - shit!" Blood spatters the desk and Hannibal looks up to see Newt's left hand fly up to his nose while the other blindly scrabbles across the desk in search of the kerchief next to his pinky. Eventually he gets it up his nostril, showing off the other brown splotches of old bloodstains. Clearly, this has happened before, at this desk. Probably within the last eight days.

Thus, Hannibal thinks, the coffee and desperation.

"Look, kid," and Newt's head pops up, his quiet cursing coming to an abrupt halt, "this seems to be taking a lot outta you." He waits for Newt's cautious nod before continuing, "I think you need a break."

"A break?" the scientist squeaks, alarmed. "Nonono, I can totally handle this, don't fire me or throw me in a ditch or whatever it is you do -"

"No one's going to throw you anywhere," Hannibal says, exasperated, "but you need to back up a few steps. You're obsessing. Over dead monsters. I'm thinking maybe all this close up examination is too much. No one ever looked you over after the Breach closed, did they?"

"No," Newt says miserably, "and Hermann left with his wife as soon as he could."

"You're not still ghost drifting with him?" Hannibal checks. "Okay. Take a week and go visit him. Or not, take a trip to Canada. See the Statue of Liberty, go play poker or - something." He leans back, waving a dismissive hand. "Something that has nothing to do with kaiju, seven days. Come back with your head on straight, got it?"

"But my work," Newt tries to protest, only to fall silent when Hannibal tips his glasses down to glare. "Right," he says miserably. "I'll just, pack a bag and find a place to stay."

Now Hannibal takes out his knife, flicking it open and stabbing straight through a corner of Newt's notepad before the kid can pick it up. He takes immense satisfaction in the unhappy noise that results. "No kaiju," he growls.

"Fine."

At least he listens better, he thinks, watching Newt stagger off to the door. He doesn't actually believe he'll be able to stay away from kaiju long enough to make a difference and maybe help ease some of the stress, take the edge off those creepy nightmares the way he wants.

_Maybe this is my fault_, he reflects. After all, who dropped him in front of a pile of fresh kaiju the day after the Breach closed?

It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Now, though? The last thing he wants is to be there for the kid's final breakdown.

**8**

It's almost comforting, almost mindless, going through the motions of getting on the PPDC base. The Hong Kong shatterdome is probably not what Chau had in mind when he said to take a vacation, but he doesn't have anywhere else to go. Newt's not sure where the magical pay he's supposedly getting is stored, but it must be on too high a shelf for him to reach because his personal account is depressingly empty. It's not like he got paid those last few years before the Breach closed.

The security guard hands him his old ID, which he takes with a nod of thanks. Hey look, it's still got the little alligator clip he attached so he could pin it on a belt loop all those years ago. Hermann had always said it was "impractical, especially in our line of work. Have some sense, Newton."

He thinks he might miss the verbal abuse. Maybe Hermann does, too. Or maybe not. Hey, calling his old friend (colleague?) sounds like a great idea... maybe when he gets settled in his old room.

Without all the people and tech, the shatterdome seems cavernous, haunted. Empty, except not, because every dozen feet he recalls a memory and it becomes stifling.

Newt hadn't realized it'd be so hard to walk these halls again.

The few people he passes don't talk to him; most of them are strangers, and the rest never liked them. He tosses out quips and bright greetings, but he doesn't blame them. He wouldn't talk to him either.

Newt's room is just as he left it: half torn posters, shredded books, bloody sheets from two AM nightmares. Nobody bothered to clean up, he observes. Once he was gone, that was that and the 'dome washed its hands of him.

Not that they have much in the way of cleaning staff anymore. The PPDC is, on record, dead. Obsolete, since the Breach closed. Herc Hansen dragged his feet for two years and finally ran out of time to stall. The last of the Jaeger parts are being prepped for shipment to Oblivion Bay, and all the workers are being sent home. The last shatterdome, meeting its end.

Why is Newt here, again? Oh yeah, because he's homeless. Thanks, Hannibal! Was his dismissal just that, a dismissal? A 'we don't need you anymore and we don't feel like cleaning up the paper trail a body makes'? He and Chau were never close, but he thought he ranked higher than the boot.

Tendo still likes him, maybe. Yeah, he'll go see Tendo.

**8**

Ooookay, no Tendo. The man's got security guards blocking the doors to the control room while he takes apart the Breach equipment.

"'S'top secret," one of them had said gravely, hefting his ancient M16 rifle and glowering.

"Excuse you, helped design that!" Newt protested. "What the hell do you have that I'm not familiar with?"

"Sorry," the other guy said. "Marshall's orders. You been to see him yet?"

"Does he at least still have that stupid haircut?" he asked, but they didn't feel like answering. They didn't feel like playing Hermann, either, his playful jibes and attempts at conversation astonishingly like talking to the closed door behind them.

So Newt went to Hansen, who seemed surprised that he'd come back.

"Good to see you again, doctor," the Marshall said. "You just missed the final packout from the lab. Never thought I'd see the place without all the guts and chalk." He sort of chuckled at his own joke, but sobered quickly. Newt's own gut twisted at the thought of bare walls and clean blackboards. One more place he won't be visiting. "Listen, I can give you a week here, provided you help us figure out how to properly decommission some of the consoles in LOCCENT. The whole 'dome closes in eleven days, though, so don't get cozy."

Now he's back in his quarters, staring at the aged tape on the ceiling, clinging haplessly to the metal surface as paper shreds weigh it down. He kind of misses that poster.

"God," he says out loud, "this is depressing." He pauses, thinking over his own statement. "Hermie wouldn't want to hear about this." Also true. "He's got a kid, anyways." Very true.

Okay, so he won't call Hermann.

"You're on vacation, Geizsler," he scolds himself. "Get some rest, find someone to chat with tomorrow. Maybe those assholes guarding the LOCCENT will let you in." Or maybe they won't. "It's worth a shot."

Get some rest. t.

He's got sleeping pills, maybe.

**8**

_He hadn't seen the outside of the cage in a long while. The sun casts a strange shadow over the barren waste that is their newest accommodation: a useless planet, he knows, with exhausted resources. It won't support the Masters much longer. He supposes that's why he was brought back to the surface, but it's been too long; his flesh is weak, his armor thin, and his overgrown claws make staggering over the rocky surface difficult. The sun glares, rays reflecting off the dying particles of useless soldiers into his eyes. He is no longer useful, unable to fight and the more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense. He's rotted away in the caves the Masters stored him and his comrades in, and they're being removed to clear space for newer kaiju. Better weapons. He is bitter._

_Even knowing this, he keeps his head lowered and gaze locked on the ragged tips of his claws. It wouldn't do to cause a scene, have the dishonor of being the first to die._

_"Hear me." The Ambassador speaks and they all hold their breath, completely silent as they wait. His head is bowed low, tip of his nose tracing a line in the dirt so he cannot see, but he dares not lift his head. There is a shuffling sound, the Master's stilted legs digging furrows as it balances itself on the rocky outcropping above them. "You are all weak."_

_Though he is well aware, the words still sting. He wasn't made to be weak._

_"We have obtained the means to defeat our newest enemy," the Ambassador announces. "They were so foolish as to leave their world's secrets with us. However, they left only small pieces. Your brethren will be receiving changes in the form of this new technology. Some of you will join them. In the mean time," and the pause here is worrying, "many of you will re-establish who deserves these changes."_

_These words bring a cold rush of fear to everyone in the crowd - he can feel it in the stiffening of spines, the grate of contracting claws on stone, the wire-taut tension in the air. Many of them will lose their lives before the new sun rises. Perhaps he will be one of them._

_"One of you," it continues, "will play fetch for your Masters. You." The weight of the Master's decision is that of the stares all around on his back. He keeps his tail still, his limbs stiff._

_"I, Master?" he asks after a quiet moment. His voice is grating dust, terrible to listen to after the period of disuse._

_"You," the Ambassador confirms. Still he doesn't rise. "You will find more parts. Search out these, the Jaegers -" his senses flood with hivemind snapshots of glowing metal beasts, of fire and pain and vicious punch after punch after -_

_"Parts, kaiju," the Ambassador says. "You will leave shortly."_

_"Yes, Master," he says, and already he can feel the spike in energy, excitement, electric adrenaline in his veins as the Masters ensure he won't die before he gets what they want. He fidgets. A twitch of a wing, a shiver down his spine, the perk of an ear. He can't sit still, and it earns him more than a few hisses of disapproval._

_When they step back, he spreads his wings and takes to the air like it's his first time._

_Jaeger parts, the hivemind choruses, and it's on this that he focuses. Jaeger. Monster. Metal kaiju with human shapes and firey cannons of death._

_Through the Breach, kaiju. Let the guards record your code as you fly._

_It's an impossible thing in the sky, a glowing gold tear forever away and right before him, and Newt_

_reaches_

**8**

In the LOCCENT Mission Control, the half-dissembled Breach scanner starts to beep.

**8**

So obviously, this is not another chapter of rustfic. I'm sorry about that, truly I am, but this had to come out else I'd never get around to what I'm supposed to be doing (RUSTFIC).  
Uh so. This is a shitstorm in the making. Gotta thank Steeb for helping me out and confusedkayt for the SCIENCE! I borrowed lots from her and she seems okay with it. XD

anyway, so I live on reviews. My stories are built on reader feedback and I can't begin to express how much I appreciate even just a few words; if there's no response I get paranoid and stop writing because I must be doing something wrong. So, please?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Notes: I'm so sorry, Kaddy. I couldn't wait.

**Chapter Text**

The entire base grinds to a halt as the deafening Breach alarm sputters to life. Red lights flash in the corridors, but only one person responds. Marshall Hansen barrels past the frozen crowds and shoulders his way into the LOCCENT, the source of the alarm.

"Choi!" he barks, and Tendo comes in from a side room with his arms full of tech. "What's going on?"

Tendo frowns, depositing his armload onto a nearby table and coming over to the main console. "Good question, I thought I took the important parts out."

"So it's just scaring us all half to death because you didn't turn it all the way off?" Herc demands. Tendo shrugs, prodding at the flickering holo-screen. It flares to life in all its tri-color glory for them to examine. The alarm is still blaring.

"What is it?" Herc says irritably, crossing his arms.

"Jesus," Tendo manages. "That's a Breach." He swallows, takes a moment as the Marshall peers over his shoulder. "Four miles from our location."

"It's real?" Herc asks, and Tendo can only nod. They thought they were done with this, thought they were packing up the last remnants of their past and going home. But, "is that a kaiju?"

Tendo stares at the yellow dot, hands moving instinctually for the intercom. "It is. Unknown category, I just brought in the last of the sensors yesterday." The display flickers, then reappears. They both jump.

"Shit!" Herc swears, batting Tendo's hand away as the other man stares. "It's right on top of us!" He flicks the speaker on, makes the announcement to the rest of the 'dome. The cameras outside show a ragged little kaiju, neon eyes flashing in the green glow of the night vision camera. Its thick skin is raw in places, massive wings torn around the edges. Hooked claws scrape furrows into the concrete platform, oozing blue ichor. It looks about the size of a category I, hunched and sick, but vicious in a feral sort of way the other kaiju never were. A twenty-foot long tail sweeps trucks and machinery into the water, but it pays them no mind. It bends its head to snuffle at the doors of the Jaeger hangar; they watch with morbid curiosity as it shivers and rears back, opening its dragon mouth to hurl an ear-splitting shriek at the sky. It's a horrid, drawn-out sound, long nails clawing down a miles-long chalk board with a crack in the middle that seems to throw the kaiju off. It coughs, shudders, and begins to pace around the Shatterdome. Its furious cries can be heard clearly where they stand in the center of the LOCCENT.

"What's it doing?" Tendo breathes, horrified and curious and dreading the answer to his own question.

The Marshall scowls, recrossing his arms over his chest as they watch. Below them, the forty-odd staff left scramble about the 'dome in search of something to do about it. "It's looking for something. We still have a simulator?"

Tendo narrows his eyes in thought. "We do. Mako and Raleigh are playing around with it. But it's just a Mark I Jaeger skeleton, nothing on it, and it's got a limited charge off the plug. Like an old laptop, I guess. No," he adds in alarm at Herc's thoughtful expression. "A SIM Jaeger is completely useless, you can't even Drift in one. There isn't even a Conn-pod!"

"Wouldn't that be better, anyways?" Herc challenges, hand hovering over the button of the intercom. "If the SIM falls, we don't lose the pilots' lives."

"It's made for trainees!" Tendo protests. "Even if we cut it from the hangar, the pilots are stuck in the simulator room. How are they going to see?"

"They get a basic HUD," Herc assures him. "And most of our armory's in the hangar." Armory meaning small missiles and three fighter jets.

There are a thousand ways for this to go wrong; the ancient wireless connection between suit and Jaeger could fail, the pilots' reaction times could be too slow, the power surge from disconnecting the SIM from the grid could short out the HUD. The hangar's not big enough for any number of jets to be flying around in it, no matter how many Jaegers it was built to house. But they have no choice, and they're wasting precious minutes while the kaiju paces outside.

"Who do we have?" Tendo sighs, rubbing his temples in hopes of postponing the imminent headache.

Herc bares his teeth in something resembling a grin. "Mako and Raleigh."

On the screen, the kaiju leaps.

**8**  
___  
The burst of cold air on his face burns, on the other side of the Breach. It's bright out here, a unusual sort of direct sunlight that stings his eyes. He understands, now, why most of his brethren attacked at night; the solitary light source is clouds are puffs of icy breath, cool one moment and gone the next. It's almost relaxing, but_

___"Parts, kaiju."_

___he was given a task by the Precursors, the Masters themselves. This takes precedence to any and all of his own thoughts or needs. _

___He thinks again of the images of the giant monsters provided by the Masters. What strange creatures, he muses, and by prodding the hivemind he's allowed to see that the tiny beasts - the humans - created them, live in them. The Jaeger can usually be killed by the death of the humans inside. How unusual. _

___He appreciates the kindness of the Masters demonstrated in the closeness of the Breach to his destination. It takes mere moments to land next to the strange land mass -_

___building Shatterdome_

___home_

___- and that is quite interesting. The quick lick of thought did not taste of kaiju, nor did it have the authoritative air of a message from a Master. Is there something else?_

___"Parts, you foolish creature." _

___Ah, right. Jaeger parts. This building, Shatterdome, a home not his own (is it? nonsense) contains them, he can smell it. He breathes in the reek of ancient oils and hot metal, revels in it and memorizes it, with the abstract familiarity of the hivemind's experiences. His tail lashes, scattering tiny human toys and scraping across the unnatural land surface under his feet. The not-rock is unkind to his damaged claws and he bleeds, hissing at the sting of it. The fun is over, and now he must complete his duty. _

___Well, always start with the entrances. He lumbers over to the largest doorway, feeling inordinately clumsy amongst all these small things. His nose collides with smooth metal too thick to tear through with his claws the way they are - he suppresses a flash of irritation at how he was given only enough energy to survive, not to heal. Scowling, he steps away and howls his growing frustration at the sky. There must be a way in without risking damage to the parts! _

___But how, exactly, does he even know there are parts here?_

___spacious room metal jaeger_

___hangar_

___ruined chunks of armor an arm a leg the empty shell of the conn-pod, torn through by ten-foot teeth _

___oblivion _

___Now this, he cannot ignore. These thoughts are from the hivemind, but they are too simplistic. Too small._

___"PARTS." _

___No, but this is bothering him, and the tiny voice is only growing louder, projecting its distress where no one can hear it but him (the distress is his own and he wants to cry but what are tears?)._

___"Gather what you can, you silly beast. Now." _

___So the Masters order, so he must obey. _

___Maybe the top (roof) will have a way to see in? Temporarily consoled, he rears back and takes to the sky. _

___No such luck, he mourns. The roof is as solid as the rest of it. Wings fold and the surface creaks as it takes his weight. To his dismay, it caves, and he tumbles into the building with a squeal of shock and terror. _

___stop, he hears. don't. _

___He hits the ground with a great thud, pain racing through his limbs as his head collides with (concrete) more of the surface from outside. He blinks rapidly, fighting for the return of his stolen air while coughing out the lungfuls of dust he receives instead._

___Parts, he thinks, and raises his head. _

___Dozens of little humans stare from where they've been scattered about, some dazed as he is and some not moving at all. Chunks of roof are still falling, he notes with chagrin. They crush machinery and people beneath them, and he almost feels a pang of pity but changes his mind. They've killed his kin, he reminds himself. _

___Jaeger parts._

___There they are, laid out on pallets as though just for him. A thin red arm, he sees, is damaged by his fall, but he thinks it's okay. His tail scoops it up and pushes it deep into the pouch the Masters installed; it digs uncomfortably into his soft underbelly. There is a collective shriek of protest from the little creatures, easily ignorable but unsettling all the same, as he roams around the room in search of machines the right size to steal. He must be quick, he knows, before they come out of their shock and rally against him. He keeps an eye on them while his tail picks things up and weighs them, tucking them away if it's deemed useful. _

___nono no no no NO _

___Human, he realizes suddenly. The tiny voice is a human, in his hivemind. A part of him. Such a weak and pathetic beast has somehow settled into the kaiju bond. And that voice is here. _

___He whips around, listening intently, while his tail continues to work. A soft growl crawls out of his throat. How does one deal with an intruder that really isn't? How, he wonders, do you handle a human embedded so deeply into your own being? Surely there's no precedent for this. _

___help, he hears. help me. _

___please. _

___Oh, how he wants to help. How he wants to shut it up, lock it away. His gaze swings over the room, noting and rejecting all the faces as strangers. Where, then, is his little charge? _

___He is distracted by a loud sound from the other side of the room. Suddenly the whole area is devoid of humans, everywhere but there._

___Jaeger._

___It looks odd, he decides, all skinny and silver. The Jaeger looks starved, like everything has been taken away and it is so painfully defenseless he almost wants to let it die on its own. But it is here to stop him, and he can't allow it to get in the way of his hunt for the hum-_

___for the parts. His hunt for the parts, which this pitiful thing is trying to interrupt and the Masters are quite curiously silent. _

___The Jaeger rocks backwards, movements a touch jerky, and the hivemind alerts him a split second before it lurches forward with a fist cocked._

___He reels back, but not quick enough; the Jaeger's fist collides with his shoulder and it's a lot stronger than it looks, but so is he. Machinery abandoned, his tail whips around and slams into his opponent's ribcage. The thing staggers, grabbing at the appendage and yanking. His whole body jerks, thrown off balance and he roars in pain and fury. _

___"Kill it!" he hears, and it's not the voice of the Masters. It's the voice of a human, and his own little one's conscience is whispering a translation into his ear. His stomach drops. _

___Kill it. _

___He pays for his momentary distraction dearly, in the form of the Jaeger shoving him onto his side and getting a grip on a wing bone while he squirms. It pulls, and he screams. _

**8**

Newt wakes to the sound of his own raw screaming and the taste of copper in the back of his throat. He swallows, forcing the bile down. He can still feel the pain of the dislocated joint, damage to a limb he doesn't have. He senses it somewhere above his shoulder blades, intangible but present all the same.

Is it a good idea to drink something right now? Probably not, since his stomach is still rolling, but Newt sits up and reaches for the bottle of water on his night stand anyways. The sheets are damp with sweat and a little bit of blood, sticking to his skin as he moves. He ignores this, sticking a corner up his nose and sighing. What a weird dream.

The longer Newt sits there, the more aches and sudden sharp pains make themselves known all over his body. He feels like he went ten rounds with a bottle of vodka, lost miserably, and keeps getting back up. He fumbles for his glasses so he can get up, walk it off, and maybe change his sheets if he decides to go back to bed. His clock reads 4 pm.

Kill it, he hears, and drops to his knees as a Jaeger buries its fist into his stomach. He chokes, gags, bites his tongue until it bleeds and when he pulls his arms away from his gut he's spitting red and breathing through the pain. That, that was not normal. That wasn't - no.

Newt lifts his shirt up and stares at the dark red mark forming. It's as if someone really punched him. He closes his eyes and thinks, ___okay, this could be cool. Let's try something new. _


	3. Chapter 3

It doesn't take much effort to find out if his dream is actual reality. Newt closes his eyes, and when he blinks them open he can hardly process that the silvery blur before him is the SIM Jaeger's fist coming straight for his face - except it's not his face, is it? He blinks again, and opens his eyes to see little droplets of blood dotting the floor. It feels like his nose is broken, but when he prods it he discovers this is not the case. It's the same sort of phantom pain he feels in the wing he doesn't have.

_I'm in a kaiju's brain. _

_There's a kaiju in the Shatterdome, right now._ Oh god. For a moment, Newt's mind blanks and all he can think is, essentially, !.

_Okay_, he tells himself firmly. _Get it together, Geiszler, this is not a field trip, this is a global emergency. Go see what you can do to help. _

Turns out his limbs are still shaky from the nightmare. It takes a good minute for him to stagger to his feet, and by the time he manages it the Jaeger lands a good enough hit on the kaiju to knock him back down.

_This isn't going to work_, he thinks desperately. Is there a way to turn it off?Except he doesn't even know how he turned the connection on, so maybe he'll explore that first.

Or later, he amends when the lights flicker out. He can explore it later. He crawls to the door, using the handle as leverage to pull himself up. Once he's walking, it's easier to keep going, rocking sideways with every blow landed on the kaiju in the Jaeger hangar and righting himself with the wall to support him.

Truthfully, Newt's not entirely sure of what he's doing, or where he's going. The blood oozes down his face, dripping from his lips to his chin, to his shirt or the floor. There's a steady pulse behind his eye, rather like someone grabbed a hammer and continues to tap in that exact spot. His vision blurs alarmingly when someone passes him, and he sways on the spot until the nausea fades. There's little he wants to do less than puke all over the hallway again.

The lights are burnt out in this corridor, he notices, but the intercom is on.

"_For the last time, do not engage_!" Marshall Hansen's voice is sharp with frustration. "_Guns are useless against the kaiju. For God's sake, you're wasting bullets it's not even feeling. Get out of the damn hangar before you get trampled and let the SIM deal with it_!"

SIM. The SIM Jaeger, Newt realizes. They're using the simulator Jaeger against a kaiju? Christ, humanity's doomed.

Except not, because the SIM lands another hit to his (its) stomach and something digs into the soft flesh, breaking the skin in a dozen places. It burns, and Newt doubles over in pain, sliding to the floor and squeezing his eyes shut. Something clatters to the floor; his glasses, he notes, when he opens his eyes to a swimming smear of greys and browns.

_Shit_, he thinks muzzily, feeling around for the frame with one shaky hand. He won't be going anywhere without them, he knows. The heel of his hand comes down on something glass, and he hears something crack.

"Dammit," he mutters, fingering along the shattered lens until he reaches the frame. He jams the glasses back onto his face, groaning at the spiderweb of lines on the previously unbroken side and the sweaty handprint over that. He's definitely going to need a new pair now.

Then again, he wouldn't have to worry about this if Hannibal hadn't hidden away his imaginary paycheck (asshole)!

But this really isn't the time to be resentful towards Chau or any of his cohort. If anything, he'll be friendlier because hey, new kaiju getting pounded into the cement just a couple floors up!

New kaiju, getting pounded, a couple floors up. _Focus, Newt_. He gets to his feet again and follows the pull. A few people almost put him off, getting in his face and demanding he walk the other way and _Doctor Geiszler, your face_! He just agrees vaguely and pushes past, filled with a sense of urgency. He know that if he's not there it's going to die.

But what's he going to do to make sure the SIM doesn't kill it? A Jaeger's not a car; he can't just run in front of it and wave his arms so they'll stop. So the best way to get the results he wants is to get into the LOCCENT and tell the Marshall - because there's no doubt Hansen won't be there - to stop murdering the kaiju. He's not quite sure how to convince the man, aside from maybe choking on his own blood and collapsing...

Hell, rock stars are great at improv. He'll be fine.

Newt wobbles down the halls with a new sense of purpose (_don't let it kill me don't let it die don't_), almost literally having to roll with the punches as he goes. The SIM is totally kicking the kaiju's ass, he can tell. One step at a time, he thinks, and laughs at the thought because he never thought he'd be so far behind that he'd have to worry about the single steps. It had always been leap five or so spaces forward and don't look back.

Don't walk, run. Don't slow down, hop in a go kart. _Keep going_, Geiszler.

At some point, maybe back when he toppled headfirst into a sealed doorway, he realizes that he's not actually going to make it to the LOCCENT. The invisible asshole gave up the dinky hammer and picked up a sledgehammer instead about three minutes ago and his vision is filled with swirling black spots, multiplying with each beat of his heart. The kaiju is taking a beating and he can taste blood in the back of his throat. It's dying. He's dying. They're both dying and this sucks.

Convincing Herc wouldn't have worked anyways. Newt curls up on the cold metal stair and presses his pounding head to the chill. The kaiju got his kid killed, and he's always going to be bitter over it. He wouldn't spare one's life because the kaiju nerd asked him to. Tendo would listen to the Marshall before him, bros or not. The SIM control room's too far away. The kaiju can't get a good enough grip before the Jaeger dances away, missing small pieces and shaking its fists. A testament to Mako and Raleigh's skill, he supposes. The only real way to take them down at this point would be -

oh.

Time to try something new again.

Newt allows his eyes to close as he crawls outwards again, prodding at the massive consciousness, the uncertain island in the middle of the black ocean. It lets him in, and

_the little one reaches in with surprising strength, feeling around their unnatural bond with extreme caution. Not that he can fault the small thing for it: he is so much bigger than its tiny mind could hope to handle. He grants it permission to see as he sees, vaguely curious as it settles in semi-permanent tendrils of curiosity and a need to know. He is happy to oblige, at any other time than this precise moment. This creature will be the death of him, he swears, and feels its shock as he forces the thought upon its conscience. _

_Get the head, he reminds himself. The monstrous Jaeger, more than a match for him in his sorry state, flexes its silver fingers. They have come to an impressive impasse, of sorts: his tail wound around its wrists and cinched tight, its grip around his throat nearly suffocating but unable to grasp tight enough. Neither of them have moved for a short while, assessing each other carefully. Its legs are locked and cannot move, its arms serving as the only real threat. His own tail is busy, but curled just so that if he were to try to lash out with claws he would throw himself off balance and give it the perfect final shot. If he uses his tail to rip off the hands at his throat, he'll snap his neck in the process._

_Thus, impasse. _

_A spike of fear from the small human clouds his thoughts. It's realized what danger he's in. What they're both in, he assumes, but he tries not to think about its presence in the hivemind too much. _

_Suddenly its confidence multiplies and he, caught off guard, permits it to direct his vision to a small square on the left side of the Jaeger's ribcage. It's flat, with three holes in the center. He's beaten the area several times, and once got a clawtip in one of the holes but it stung him, so he let go. Now, he realizes, the little one is trying to tell him something about it._

_life battery _

_energy_

_rip it off it dies_

_killitkillitkillitstopit_

_dead_

_It clearly hasn't mastered hivemind communication, but he understands. Keeping his eyes locked on the Jaeger's head, he carefully shifts his weight to relieve one foot. His claws flex, the Jaeger's spine stiffens, and he strikes. _

_His claws dig into the edges of the square, burrowing deep as his tail loosens and the Jaeger reacts immediately. Metal fingers squeeze at his neck and he twists, jerking the square box out of its systems with a shriek and snap. The Jaeger collapses on top of him, dead and he howls in triumph, _

gasping as he returns to his own self.

"Wow," Newt breathes, and passes out.


	4. Chapter 4

_The Jaeger is heavy. It takes a lot of heaving and huffing to shoulder it to the side, sparking and smoking while he takes in great breaths of unrestricted air. He allows himself several moments to fumble for balance before heaving to his feet, cursing his instability. Thank the Masters for his ability to shut out the pain, if only temporarily._

_The humans begin crawling in again. He takes this as the warning it is and slams up against a wall, forcing his wing bone back into its socket with an awful grind, before flapping once experimentally and taking off. _

_Needless to say, he doesn't get far. Bone shifts and he slams into what's left of the roof, sending large pieces back down into the building as he scrabbles for purchase on the smooth surface. His claws dig in, and he takes the opportunity to pull up and crawl over the side with his middle limbs to support him._

_It begins to rain. _

_The slick surface is suddenly a lot harder to get a grip on so he slips, tumbling right down the side of the Shatterdome to bounce off the walkway and crash into the ocean. Bubbles obscure his vision and he spends half a moment panicking before thinking to use the radio silence from the rest of the hivemind to focus. Actually, that is very worrying. He stills in the water, some hundred feet deep, and reaches out. _

_The little one is disturbingly quiet, so he only prods it once to see if it's going to live before moving on. The Masters, too, are silent, but in such a way that he wonders if they purposefully cut his connection with them. If so, then he won't be able to get back through the Breach. Finally, he broadcasts to the other kaiju and only gets vague mumbling. Well. At least they're still there. He's not quite sure what he'd do without them._

_Go mad, maybe. _

_Parts, kaiju, he suddenly remembers. It seems like a long time ago now. He'd been so worried about that stupid little human. He should still be worried, maybe, considering it found its way into the hivemind. Maybe the Masters will know something, should they be in a forgiving mood. They usually aren't. _

_It takes much more time to swim than to fly, and more energy he really can't afford. It took only a minute to fly to the base, and that was with his procrastinating; it's more than fifteen minutes before he feels the magnetic tug of the Breach, calling him home. _

_And there it is: an electric tear in the ocean floor, wider than he is long. It's underdeveloped, too narrow to allow anyone but the smallest through. The smallest, he reflects, don't get much smaller than him. He's less than half the size of many other kaiju. Maybe he was only picked because of his convenient size. Which makes him lucky, he supposes._

_He noses at the fiery edge, waiting for permission to enter. A flash, and he's allowed through. He hesitates only a moment longer, pondering a split second of uncharacteristic nerves, before slipping past the barrier._

_A clawed hand grabs him around the throat and pulls. _

_He comes out on the other side with a watery snarl, hitting the ground painfully when the hand releases him. The owner of the offending limb, a massive kaiju easily five times his size, shoves him back down when he tries to get to his feet, squashing his middle limbs beneath him. It's extremely uncomfortable and he wriggles around in an attempt to relieve the pressure until the stilted legs of a Master step into his line of vision._

_He stills and lowers his gaze. _

_"Where," the Ambassador says, its voice high and cold and deadly furious, "did you go, vermin?"_

_He swallows. "To retrieve parts, Master."_

_"And why did you feel the need to sever your connection with your precursors?" it demands. "How, exactly, did you manage this?"_

_"I didn't," he responds. These are his last moments. He's going to die, pinned like a recalcitrant child to the dirt while the Master scolds. Wounded, aching, miserable, and humiliated._

_He thinks maybe he should have prolonged his mission, if only to put off his sorry death a little longer. _

_"Explain," it demands, voice clipped and angry. _

_He swallows a noise of surprise. It's giving him a chance to explain himself? How unusual! He's certainly not complaining, though he'll admit to a bit of confusion. This opportunity is a rare thing, generally granted only for those few experienced warriors, who come back from the war triumphant. Is he one of those few now? _

_He now has two choices. It feels somehow intrusive, and wrong, to tell the Masters of his little human. He could explain away the cut connection with a few words of fumbling excuses, and with his apparent new status get away with it. Or, he could take a bigger chance and describe the insistent pull of the human in the hivemind. He really, really doesn't want to._

_This is important, he tells himself. If the Masters don't know about it, they should. And he has no right to withhold this sort of information. _

_Still, he feels deeply uncomfortable with sharing it, even as he tells them. "There was another being in the hivemind, Master."_

_It clicks angrily and shuffles its feet. "What do you mean, another being? There were no kaiju actively connected." _

_"Not a kaiju," he corrects, and nearly bites his own tongue off before forcing himself to continue," a human." _

_There is a very long silence. _

_"A human," the Ambassador repeats softly._

_"Yes, Master," he can't help but continue. "Its consciousness resides in the hivemind. Its presence distracted me, but it was too weak to maintain communication and faded after a short time."_

_"It spoke with you?" _

_"It gave me an impression, of sorts," he explains. "Instructions in the form of images and feelings."_

_The pressure eases up on his back, and he takes the opportunity to shift his legs out from underneath him. Feeling comes back in a cold rush of stabbing sensations. He hisses in displeasure._

_More Masters have come forth to hear his story, so he offers an extremely vague run-through of what happened, leaving out the embarrassing bits as he pulls out the parts he retrieved for them to examine. _

_"We will discuss this," the first Ambassador says imperiously, stepping back and turning away from the mess of circuitry. Other precursors collect the pieces hurriedly, scurrying off to the construction chambers. "In the meantime, you will show your worth in the pit. Someone repair the kaiju," it calls, louder, and the scavenger Masters swarm around him as the higher-ups take their leave._

_He scowls at the dirt as the Masters work. Just when he thinks he's free from painful humiliation followed by execution, they decide to throw him into the pit, to be torn apart by the bigger kaiju. _

_Not so kind, after all. _

**8**

"Newt, man, you are in so much trouble."

"It's not like it's my fault," Newt complains, actively restraining himself from playing with the IV in his right hand. It itches and he hates it with a burning passion. "I didn't jump down the stairs, okay, with the, I dunno, intention to hurt myself."

"You're right," Tendo retorts, "you passed out and fell down them, and now you've got a twisted ankle."

"And bruised ribs," Newt adds helpfully, scowling. "Hasn't stopped me before, y'know."

"Well it's stopping you now." The plastic chair squeaks as Choi shifts to cross his arms. "Not only that, but Marshall Hansen's calling in reinforcements."

"I don't need a nanny," Newt protests, but there's no arguing with the Marshall's decisions. "Who did he call?" he asks, his scowl pulling the bruised skin on his cheekbone uncomfortably.

"Mako. No, don't fight us on this," Tendo says, smile fading. He looks serious now, stressed. "We all saw it, Newt."

Newt swallows. "Saw-?"

"You had all the signs of a bad Drift," Tendo explains. "You know what happened yesterday, right?"

"I ended up in the infirmary?" he tries. He knows full well what happened yesterday. The kaiju situation is tough, though, and he realizes there's no good way to avoid it. Much like his first Drift in the lab, someone had to have found him where he fell. That's a medical concern all on its own, but the connection between this and the kaiju is obvious.

He gets a frown and a headshake instead of the lighter atmosphere he was vaguely hoping for. "No, man. We have to talk about the kaiju."


End file.
